


Scared of the Dark

by JCMadGirl



Series: Follow you [1]
Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Blink and you'll miss it, Hurt JJ, JJ Needs a Hug, John B gives it to him, John B is there, John is a Good Friend, Luke's A+ Parenting, a lot of swearing, but it's barely there really, its okay, lots of bruises, mention of suicidal thoughts, mentions of alcohol and weed, some blood, this is all very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24018073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JCMadGirl/pseuds/JCMadGirl
Summary: JJ hasn't replied to any of his texts for the whole day.John B knows tonight is a Really Fucking Bad Night.**Or, John B puts back a broken JJ
Relationships: JJ & John B. Routledge
Series: Follow you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734061
Comments: 16
Kudos: 322





	Scared of the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, dear friends.  
> I wrote this very quickly, because I just HAD to get this out of my chest. I have so many feelings.  
> Anyway, back to the story: it's angsty, but it's not very graphic, but let me know if I maybe should switch the rating to Mature.  
> That's it. I love them. There might be a sequel, it' unknown.  
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!  
> Find me on Tumblr with the same handle, thanks for stopping by!  
> The title and the lyrics are from Scared of the Dark by Lil Wayne, Ty Dolla $ign ft. XXXTENTACION

_[I'm not scared of the dark_

_I'm not running, running, running_

_No, I'm not afraid of the fall_

_I'm not scared, not at all_

_Why would a star ever be afraid of the dark?]_

Over the years they've been friends, John B has learned that JJ is many, many different things.

On a Good Day, JJ’s smiles light up the room, eyes shining and the sun washing his feature in gold. This JJ cracks jokes every two seconds, he laughs loudly and dares John B to do idiot things. John B always does, because he was never too good at telling JJ no. 

This JJ is loud and fun, he’s days on the beach and in the sea, this JJ drips water all over the Chateau, this JJ is cold beer and surfing competition (that he always wins because he’s better than John B).

This JJ is affectionate and warm, pulling John B into hugs or leaning against his side.

(Because that’s where JJ belongs, by John B’s side.)

This JJ will let John B runs his fingers through his wet hair. This JJ will take John B’s hand and jump off their boat, the HMS POGUE, with a big grin stretching his lips. 

This JJ is quiet nights under the stars, around a bonfire, sharing a blunt or a drink as they talk of everything and nothing, his voice a comforting and familiar sound. This JJ will listen to John B as he points out constellations in the sky, and make fun of him for being such a nerd. 

This JJ is a ball of energy, unable to sit still for longer than three fucking seconds, his attention always shifting to something new, something different, until he finds a thing that can hold his interests. Usually it’s one of John B’s ideas, because he was never good at telling John B no either. 

He’s manic energy and dirty jokes, flirty looks and playful smirks, blue eyes shining and hair held back by sunglasses. 

On a Good Day, nothing can go wrong.

On a Bad Day, JJ is angry. This JJ will scream at John B and their friends, mean and cutting comments falling from his lips. This JJ is bloody knuckles and bruised arms, ripped shirts and dark eyes. This JJ drinks too much, and smokes too much, and picks fight too easily, throwing a punch at the first provocation. 

This JJ is hurt and mad and furious, a tempest behind his blue eyes. This JJ is jumpy, on edge, on guard. 

This JJ flinches when John B’s dad moves too fast, or if any adult in general gets too close. He’s reckless, ignores the worried looks John B throws him, and gets into dangerous situations all the time. This JJ is fast and loose, doesn’t care that he could get hurt. 

(John B sometimes thinks that he does it on purpose, because he really doesn’t care if he lives or dies.)

(It’s a scary thought, that always leave John B a bit breathless.)

Pope once told him that John B is the only who can calm down this JJ, and sometimes not even he can. 

On a Really Fucking Bad Day, JJ is quiet. That’s always the first sign that’s something is _really_ wrong. This JJ will show up on John B’s doorstep after having walked under the rain, shaking like a leaf, eyes trained to the ground. This JJ will let John B wrap him into a hug, looking like he might fall apart if John B doesn’t hold him together. 

This JJ is black eyes and teared shirts, he’s bruised ribs and broken bones, he’s glassy eyes and a bloody face. 

This JJ is scared and a bit broken, but John B is always there to put back together the pieces. 

This JJ will let John B check his injuries, and take him to the hospital or bandage him up. 

This JJ will curl into John B’s side, once they do make it to bed, and John B will run his fingers through his hair. If silent tears runs down JJ’s cheek, then John B never mentions it.

This JJ has nightmares that wake them both in the middle of the night. He’s panic attacks that leave him shivering, whispered apologies and choked back sobs. 

This JJ is vulnerable, and John B is always careful with this JJ, always promises himself that he’ll never let him go back to that house.

(It’s a promise he can’t keep, because eventually JJ always goes back, no matter how much John B tells him to stay at the Chateau) 

***

Tonight, is a Really Fucking Bad Night.

JJ hasn't replies to any of his texts for the whole day, and a quick check in with Pope and Kie confirmed him that JJ fell off the radar since last night. 

They got into a fight, he and JJ. It was something stupid, John B doesn’t even remember, something about JJ had said. 

Anyway, JJ left the Chateau, and John B had let him, sure he’d come back in an hour or so when he had calmed down. But he hadn't.

So John B knows today is Really Fucking Bad Night. 

Since JJ isn’t answering his damn phone, John B will have to go to him. He takes the car to make the short drive to JJ’s shitty house. He just hopes Luke isn’t home, because if he is then it’ll be a lot harder to get JJ out.  
John B briefly considers calling the rest of the Pogues, or Pope at least. He doesn’t in the end, because he knows JJ doesn’t want them to know. They do know, they would have to be stupid to not do. Just not the full extent of it. 

John B sighs, turning off the car. He pushes back his hair, and prepares himself for a rescue mission. 

He peeks up from the window that opens in the kitchen/living room, and doesn’t see Luke anywhere. It’s always possible the man is in his room, but John B is willing to take the risk. 

He opens the door quietly, slipping in silently.  
The house is a fucking disaster like it always is, bottles laying around the room, food thrown on the floor, empty pill bottles forgotten over the table. It’s a mess, but it’s empty. There’s a chance Luke might be in his room, but judging from the lack of music he’s either out or passed out, and both cases work for John B. 

He moves quietly, tiptoeing through the room to JJ’s door. John B knows none of the rooms have locks because Luke likes to be able to barge in whenever he wants, but he also knows JJ always puts a chair under the handle to keep him out. So he knocks, quietly, in case Luke really is in the house. 

“JJ.” He whispers against the door. “It’s John B.” 

There’s some shuffling from the other side, definitely a pained groan, but eventually the door swings open, and there JJ is. 

“Hey, John B.” He whispers, voice hoarse.

“Christ, JJ.” JJ is leaning heavily against the wall, and looks like he might pass out at any second, so John B slides an arm around his waist, supporting most of JJ’s weight. 

“Come on, the car is outside.” 

They stumble their way back outside, and JJ has to cover his mouth with his hand to swallow down several pained sounds. By the time they make it to the car, he has tears in his eyes. 

“Tell me.” John B says, starting the car. JJ curls on himself in the seat, letting out a sigh. 

“Bad night.” John B wants to punch himself.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, JJ.”  
“For what? You’re not the one who threw me a beer.” 

“I shouldn’t have kicked you out, man, I’m sorry-

“John B?”

“Yeah?”  
“Shut the fuck up.” JJ closes his eyes, leaning against the back of the seat. 

“Right.” 

Their trip home is quiet, the silence broken only by JJ’s ragged breaths.

JJ sighs deeply when they make it to the Chateau, leaning heavily into John B. It’s right where he belongs, John B thinks, by his side, on the porch of the Chateau. 

JJ is shivering against him, making pained little sound every step they take. He’s limping really bad. John B guides him to his room, and help him sit down on the bed. 

“Fuck.” JJ hisses, one hand pressed to his side. It comes back bloody.

“Shit, JJ, you’re bleeding.” JJ nods, lips pressed together. “Come on.” He says, starting to pull at the black hoodie he’s wearing. 

_Jesus fucking Christ._

He looks like he got into a fight with the whole football team. 

There’s a gash on his forehead, down to his left eyebrow, that has dried blood on it, the whole right side of his face is a big purple bruise. He's got a split lip. 

The worst comes when John B helps him out of the hoodie.

“Shit.” JJ doesn’t say anything, avoiding his eyes. There’s a ring of dark marks all around his neck, the tank top he’s wearing is ripped in multiple places, and John B can see that the left side of his body is completely fucked, a few cuts and another big gash on his chest and arms. There’s blood in his hair, red stripes through the blond strands. 

John B has to take a second to breathe in and force down the blinding rage tightening his chest.

He’ll kill that piece of shit sooner or later, probably sooner. 

For right now, he needs to bandage up his best friend, who still hasn’t looked at him.

“I’ll be right back.” JJ looks like he hasn’t even heard him, so John B gets up and comes back with an emergency kit and some water. “JJ?”  
“‘m fine.” He mumbles, as if he wasn't literally bleeding. 

“It’s okay, I got you. I need to take this off, yeah?” JJ glances at him real quick, hand still pressed on the side and nods once. Since the top is completely ruined, John B just rips it, pushing it down his shoulder. 

“JJ, I need to check for broken bones.” He says, kneeling down in front of him. He nods, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Okay.” 

JJ flinches when John B touches him, fingers barely brushing his skin. 

“Sorry.” John B says, and JJ shakes his head.

“‘s okay.” John B nods, tries and fails to meet JJ’s blue eyes, goes back to dragging his hands over JJ’s chest and side. “‘m fine.”  
“Yeah, yeah, you are.” John B gives him a small smile and JJ’s lips quirks up. Good sign. 

He’s got definitely three broken ribs and a couple of cracked ones, which they need to put ice on. He wraps a bag of ice into a towel and hands it to him. 

Then John B looks at the bleeding gash on his other side. It’s not deep enough that it will need stitches but it’s going to be a bitch to heal. He cleans the cut from the blood and disinfects it, before putting a big band-aid on it. 

“You were limping before.” John B says, looking up to his face again. JJ finally looks back, thank God. 

“Hit my knee somewhere.” He says quietly again. It’s always so weird, hearing JJ speak so softly. 

“Can you take off your pants?” He’s only wearing sweats, but it’s still a struggle to get them off. 

“Looks fine, just bruised.” He says, and JJ nods. “Hey, did you hit your head?”  
JJ shrugs. 

“Probably. Not sure, though.”  
Well, that’s not a good sign.

“Can I check?”  
“Go for it.” He says. John B stands up to got sit beside him on the bed. He cleans the blood from his hair with a wet towel first, then starts running his fingers through the strands, looking for bumps or eggs or anything that isn’t supposed to be there. 

JJ makes a low happy sound as John B brushes his hair, leaning into the touch. It makes John B smile, how much JJ instinctively leans into him.

(Once they got really high, and JJ told him that he considers John B his safe place. It doesn’t matter how shitty everything is, if John B is there, then everything it’s better.)

(He tries to live up to that.)

“I think you’re good.”  
“Tired. Sleep.” JJ says, letting himself fall on the bed. It’s not a great idea, judging from the pained frown on his face immediately after. John B snorts. He throws some clean clothes to him.  
“When did you eat last?” 

“Unknown.” John B rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t sleep yet, you need to eat something.” 

“Yes, mom.” JJ says, a small smile playing on his lips. It’s good. John B breathes a little easier. 

Truth to be told, he hasn’t been grocery shopping in like five days, so the only edible food in the house are a couple of granola bars and some milk that hopefully hasn’t gone bad. He warms up the milk on the oven because JJ is an actual child and likes it warm, and brings everything back to the room. 

JJ sits up with a series of groans and curses, and starts munching on the granola bar. John B busies himself with cleaning up the room a bit, throwing the bloody towels in the washing machine, along with JJ’s sweats and hoodie. The tank tops goes straight into the trash. 

Once he’s done, he goes back to the bed, where JJ is rapidly downing the glass of milk. He hands him a bottle of water, which he also drinks. 

Stay hydrated, kids.

It’s super early, barely nine p.m., but JJ looks ready to pass out, so they get under the blankets and John B turns off the light. 

John B stares at the ceiling, listens to JJ’s uneven breathing. 

“John B?” His voice breaks the silence, and John B turns his face to him. He can barely make out his profile in the darkness of the room, hair sticking up in every direction.

“Yeah?” 

“Can I?” JJ asks, because he always does. 

“Come here.” John B always answers. There's some shuffling, as JJ curls against his side, head resting on John B’s chest. John B smiles to himself, lifting one hand to run it through his soft hair. He feels JJ going slack against his side, and again it occurs to him how _right_ this is, having JJ like this. Safe, and where John B can make sure he’s okay. 

“Thank you.” JJ says against his chest. He doesn’t to specify what for, because John B knows. 

(He wants to tell him that he’ll always come, that he’d never leave him with Luke, that he’d never let him go if it was up to him.) 

(He doesn’t.)

“No problem, man.” He says instead. 

JJ falls asleep in three seconds flat after that. 

**

John B opens his eyes when he hears a scream. It takes him a second to register that it’s JJ, and that now his friend is sitting up, hands pulling at his hair, shaking from head to toe.

“JJ.” He calls. He wants to reach out, but JJ looks like he might break into a thousand pieces if touched, so he doesn’t. JJ looks like he hasn’t even heard him, eyes squeezed shut.

“Just a dream.” JJ whispers to himself, hands shaking in his hair.

(John B’s heart breaks.)

“JJ, it’s okay. You’re home, you’re at the Chateau, you’re _okay-_

JJ whips around, and in the early light of the day, John B can see the tears filling his eyes.

_Christ._

( _Never_ let him go-

“John B?” JJ’s voice is shaky.

“Yeah, just me. You’re okay, JJ, you’re home.” JJ huffs a wet laugh. 

“Right. Sorry I woke you.” He breathes deeply, winching because he has three broken ribs. 

( _I’ll kill that bastard-_  
“It’s okay.” John B lifts one hand slowly, putting it on his back. JJ is a bundle of nerves, muscle tensed under his palm. Some on the tension does leave his body at the contact. 

“Want to tell me about it?” He asks, and JJ runs one hand through his hair, chewing the inside of his cheek. 

“Got a smoke?” John B reaches into his bedside table for a packet of cigarettes that actually has cigarettes inside. He really needs to clean up. 

JJ lights up quickly, taking a long drag, eyes closed as he blows out the smoke. 

(It’s a pretty sight.)

John B lies back down, and JJ follows him a minute later. John B shifts around so that their arms are touching, and JJ puts the ashtray beside him, so he can keep smoking. 

It’s a familiar smell, one that John B instinctively associates with JJ. He’s been smoking the same brand (Marlboro Red) since seventh grade. 

“He choked me.” JJ says at one point, voice cracking. “I really thought he wouldn’t stop this time.” 

The smoke curls in round shapes in the air above them. 

“He was so mad.” JJ continues, pressing his free hand into his eyes. 

“JJ.”  
“It’s so fucked up, you know?” JJ chews the inside of his cheek, and John B lets his eyes gaze over JJ’s Adam apple, bobbing when he swallows hard, then lower to the ring of bruises around his throat. “Yesterday, when I got home, he was happy to see me. Don’t know what the fuck he took to make him like that. Even told me he _loved me,_ Christ. It’s so _fucked up_.” JJ’s voice breaks, and breathes in once, blinking away the tears. 

(John B wants to tell him that that’s not what love looks like. Love doesn’t leave you so bruised you can’t even breathe properly.)

(He has broken his ribs a couple of times too, he knows that even breathing hurts.) 

“I don’t even know what I said to make him snap. One second I’m handing him a beer, and the next he’s throwing it at my head.”

“Christ, JJ-

“I really thought he wouldn’t stop.” 

(There’s something he doesn’t say, John B knows. He doesn’t ask though, because he also knows what it is, and doesn’t want to hear it.)

(‘ _I hoped he wouldn't to stop.’)_

“You’re home now.” John B says, because he has to say something, and can’t really say all that. 

“Aw, John B, you’re my home too.” JJ turns his face to give John B one of his big smiles. It’s a bit watery, and doesn’t really reach his eyes, but it’s okay. John B will take it. 

“Idiot.” JJ knocks their shoulders together, still smiling. 

(He’s okay. He’s okay. He’s _okay_.)

John B still kinda feels like shit. 

( _Really_ feels like shit.)

“Why did you go home, last night?” 

“We were fighting.”  
“You know you can always come here, even if we’re fighting.” 

JJ is quiet for a second too long.

“I know.” JJ looks away. “I just- I thought you might want some privacy.” 

(Read: I thought you didn’t want me around anymore. That you got tired of me.) 

(John B is very fluent in JJ, thank you very much.) 

“I’d never kick you out, JJ.” 

“I know. I was being stupid as usual.” 

(I’m _so sorry-_

“Anyway, it is what it is.” JJ says. He stretches like a damn cat, bones popping, then he swears when he pulls at all his wounds because he might not be stupid, but he is an idiot. 

“Stop moving, idiot.” 

“Suck my dick, JB.” JJ says, pulling the hood over his face. He yawns. 

“You’re like a fuckin’ baby.”  
“Thank you.” John B snorts, turning on his side, facing JJ. 

“Shut up now, it’s like five.” JJ nods, eyes falling closed again. 

“I don’t feel very appreciated right now.” John B sighs. 

“If you don't shut up, I’ll tape your mouth shut.” 

“Kinky.” 

“JJ.” John B has his eyes already closed, but can feel the quiet laugh coming from JJ. 

“I still don’t feel the love, just sayin’.” John B doesn’t even try to hide his smile. He lifts one arm and lets JJ get under it, his back pressed against John B’s chest.

( _Safe.)_

John B buries his face in JJ’s hair, he smells of smoke and saltwater, with a touch of blood. Weird combo, but again, inherently JJ. 

He throws his arm over JJ’s waist, mindfully of all the bruises and cuts, and JJ relaxes against him. 

“Hey, John B, do-

“Sleep, JJ.” 

JJ does. 


End file.
